


Pale and Flustered

by madelinewrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ANGST!!, F/M, Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-06
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-11-28 17:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11422713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinewrites/pseuds/madelinewrites
Summary: As Dean reminisces about the losses of his past, he can’t help but feel immense pain and guilt.





	Pale and Flustered

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Dean x Reader
> 
> Prompt: Past Perfect by Louden Swain or @mrswhozeewhatsis Louden Swain mini-bang. Also for SPN Angst Appreciation Day 2017 
> 
> Summary: As Dean reminisces about the losses of his past, he can’t help but feel immense pain and guilt.
> 
> Word Count: 1278
> 
> Warnings: ANGST!!, mourning
> 
> A/N: I loved having this song as inspiration; this is a Dean that I’ve wanted to write for a long time but have never had the inspiration for. Let me know what you think because FEEDBACK IS ADORED AND NEEDED!

**“Always just smiles /Always for the lens /Always for your friends /Always for their sake /And now It’s takin’ all I can muster /Just to wake up all pale and flustered /The cards been folded, I busted /The plates are stacked and the shelves aren’t dusted /Take it back and adjust it /The faint nostalgia cannot be trusted.”**

**_Past Perfect - Louden Swain_ **

           I sat on my bed, sighing deeply as my eyes closed. The thick paper of the pictures felt especially heavy in my hand in that moment, as if the weight of the world had come to rest upon them: upon me. I had tried drinking it away earlier, but the feeling in my gut stuck with me, just like the nagging voice of my conscience. I looked away from the picture for a moment, up to the cheap mirror I had hung up across from my bed. For a while, I would swear that someone was standing beside my bed, watching me, planning my demise right beside me. The mirror was the only way I could trust that I was truly alone; somehow, that wasn’t much better of a feeling.

           Looking into it, I almost laughed at my appearance. I was pathetic. It had been days since I’d left my room, and that was only to grab some sustenance so I could attempt to keep myself alive. I was pale, my hair disheveled and wild, the bags under my eyes vivid blue. This happened annually, every time the new year came around. I had gotten through another year of life, but how many had I left behind? I hated myself in that moment, but I hated myself in most moments, so that wasn’t too much of a burden. It was more than self-hatred then; it was feeling the hatred of the entire fucking world on me. I tried. I did, I tried so hard to be good, only hunting to “save people.” What a crock. Hunters use the job as some sort of sick band-aid, something to make up for the shitty person they became. Nothing could ever  _fix_  what I’d done to the world, to the people I supposedly loved.

           There was the whole “gang” in one of the pictures, when there was still enough people to be called so. Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Sam, Cas, and I, all standing and looking like the end of the world was upon us. I guess in our minds it was, and to some of us, our end was sooner than we wanted to believe. Jo and Ellen were the first to go, but Bobby wasn’t much longer afterward. More pictures, further back now, showing a fuzzy scene of Sam, Kevin and I, taken when Cas was messing through my phone, clueless. I had it printed not long after he died; I had no way to keep a part of his mom. Even longer ago, a selfie taken by Charlie including Sam and a blurred me, refusing to be caught in the act of “selfie” taking.

I wished now, more than ever, that I would’ve just taken the damn photo. Let Charlie have that moment, just one period in time, where sacrificing for us made sense, where I wasn’t such an ass that doing much of anything for me was senseless. On and on it went: Dad, Rufus, Pamela, not to mention the countless others who never got captured on film. In my mind, these were memories of picturesque bliss, a perfect time of liveliness and safety, but it’s so paper thin. Every damn moment of our life is filled with agony and suffering, no matter how pretty it looks on paper. A gentle rapping came at the door then, Y/n peeking her head in slightly with a gentle smile. She gave a soft wave, and I attempted my normal smirk. Peeking at the mirror, it was obvious I had failed.

“Heya,” Y/n greeted as naturally as possible, her voice barely audible as she tested the waters. “I haven’t heard from you in a few days, and we live in the same place.” She laughed nervously. “Just wanted to make sure everything is…alright.” I nodded, shrugging as a response. Y/n swallowed, easing her way into the room, sitting at the foot of my bed. She glanced around at my surroundings and for the first time I took inventory of what I had been living in; muddy and blood-soaked clothes strewn across the floor, empty bottles of cheap beer that tasted more like rubbing alcohol than a relaxer, crumpled up napkins all over from the copious crying I had tried to hide, dust on every piece of furniture (probably including myself). I was the worst scum of the earth, but my room was definitely a close second. She glanced down at the photos, nodding as she began to understand. She cleared her throat.

“Rough few days, I take it?” I nodded. She shuffled, rubbing her hands together as she continued. “Maybe you just need to get out a little, huh? Sam and I were planning on maybe going out, getting some drinks, celebrating the New Year like most people do, since we’re pretty good on cases. What do you say?” I just shook my head, rubbing my eyes in exhaustion. I had forgotten how draining it was to interact with people who care; they don’t give up. “Well it feels wrong to just leave you here by yourself, Dean.”

“Y/n,” I finally grumbled. “ _Just go._ ”

She looked around my room, sighing as she got up with hands on her hips.

“ _Fine_ ,” she muttered. “But I’ll be damned if I’m leaving you in these conditions.”

She began at work, leaving the room and returning with a clothes basket filled with cleaning supplies. She began dusting, even going as far to grab the pictures from my hands and wipe the storage grime off them. Gingerly grabbing each napkin, wrapper, and bottle from the floor and nightstand, she tossed them in a garbage bag. By the time she was done, the bag was easily half full. She never stopped and I never moved; it felt like she was on fast forward all around me, while I was too stuck in my own head to catch up. Finally, all the clothes were in the hamper and all the trash in a bag, the room felt new again; I wished I could say the same for myself.

“Alright,” she sighed, looking at me with sad eyes as she stood in the door frame with the garbage and basket in hand. “Are you  _sure_  you’ll be okay tonight? It’s really no problem for me to stay home, I don’t care that much about it.”

“Y/n.”

“Fine, fine,” she relented, her tone quickly turning to pleading. “Just…please take care of yourself, Dean. We’ll be home soon.”

I nodded, Y/n mustering the best smile she could as she left. I shut my eyes tightly, managing to get my creaky joints moving quick enough to stand up and catch her before she left for the night. As she passed my door, I grabbed her by the arm. It was about time I started appreciating the people I loved while I still had them.

“Hey,” I mumbled, my voice barely functioning. “What you did was…nice. Thanks.” Y/n nodded, her glittery makeup shining as she looked up at me.

“Don’t mention it,” she assured, patting my cheek lightly. “If you need anything, just call me.”

“You coming, Y/n?” Sam called from the library. Y/n looked back, smiling at me and waving as she ran towards him.

“Yup! Here I come!”

I stood in the door frame until she was no longer in the hall, quickly shutting my door and leaning my back against it. I took as many deep breaths as I could manage, before my knees gave up and my back slid down the dark wood of my door. I couldn’t be sure, but I just hoped that they had left before they heard my sobs ring through the bunker’s desolate halls.

**Author's Note:**

> Also found at: http://deansleather.tumblr.com/post/162180087511/pale-and-flustered


End file.
